


Disciplinary Action

by Welcome_Remark



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Light Bondage, Military, Other, POV First Person, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcome_Remark/pseuds/Welcome_Remark
Summary: "You know, the boys often choke on this test when I come with them. I guess my charm makes them nervous."





	Disciplinary Action

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ulan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/gifts).



> This is posted as an entry for my own personal NaNoWriMo - 30 pornographic short stories, based around 30 pieces of hand-drawn or animated porn. The link for the accompanying artwork is at the end of the fic - I did **not** draw it.
> 
> Not a direction I'd planned on going for NaNoWriMo, but once I started, it was easy. Most of it was written after midnight though, so hopefully it makes sense.
> 
> As tagged, it's written in first person. The protagonist wears a skirt, but other than that (unless I stuffed up somewhere) they are not gendered. Any Trepies out there, feel free to insert (hah) yourselves!

### Disciplinary Action

Twelve fifty-eight.

I sprinted up the stairs and around the corner of one of Balamb Garden's many identical corridors, barely keeping myself ahead of a rising panic. I'd been up and down these halls many times, for many reasons, and while I knew most of them pretty well, this was an area I'd never really had a cause to venture into before, and I wasn't entirely convinced I'd be able to make it to my appointment on time.

It didn't help that I wasn't sure what it was about. Communication from the Senior Management Team was normally quite exact, and the various instructors and administration staff here had a well-deserved reputation for being very clear and forthright. But the communication I'd received this morning had been unusually vague. I was to make myself available for a meeting at 1pm today, the first day of February; that was all I knew.

I skidded around the corner, nearly colliding with another group of students before righting myself and continuing down the hall. Not for the first time, I cursed the poor design of the Balamb Garden uniform - the skirt, while ending just above my knees, was rigid enough to considerably restrict my movement. It may have been nice to look at, and I knew the importance of the uniform, but I also knew I wasn't the only one who was struggling to manouevre through the training centre.

 _If I ever get to be a SeeD and wear my own clothes,_ I thought to myself as I ran towards the administration corridors with less than a minute to go, _I'm done with skirts. Give me something I can fight properly in, any day._

The receptionist looked up with mild amusement as I shouldered my way through the door, gasping for breath. A quick glance around the waiting room confirmed that I was the only student here. Whatever this mystery meeting was about, it seems I was the only one who had to be here. I wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

I paused for a moment, trying to tug my hair into something approaching neatness while I looked around the room. There were only a dozen or so offices here, one for each of the senior lecturers and tutors, as well as the elevator behind the desk that lead to the third floor, taken up entirely by the Headmaster's office. Half a dozen uncomfortable looking plastic chairs to sit in and wait, surrounded by equally plastic plants. And that was it.

As I walked up to the reception desk, I heard the school bells on the floor below me chiming out 1pm. Right on time. I gave the receptionist the brightest smile I could muster, still quite out of breath, and he nodded back to me as he clicked and typed at his computer.

"Yes..." he said slowly. "It says here you're meant to be seeing..."

A door opened behind me, and I heard the sound of heavy boots walking across the tiled floor. There was only one Instructor in the school who wore those.

"...her," he finished, smiling over my shoulder. "I'm surprised you're not off to lunch, ma'am. I think everyone else is."

I gulped, forcing myself not to turn around as the footfalls came to a stop just behind my shoulder.

"Regrettably, the matter was urgent, and there was simply no other time that could be arranged."

I coughed, realising I'd been holding my breath; not a clever thing to do when one is still puffed from running the near length of the school. Trying desperately to keep my heart under control, I turned and looked into the stern bespectacled gaze of Instructor Trepe.

Instructor Trepe gave me the worst case of cognitive dissonance I'd ever experienced, on a daily basis. On one hand, while not the strictest instructor in the school, she was certainly one of the most difficult to please. Her lessons and tasks were never unfair, but that didn't mean that they weren't difficult. The subjects she lectured on were some of the more problematic ones in my timetable. And I'd lost track of the number of times she'd had to pull my unconscious body out of the Training Centre.

The last time I'd been in there with her had been less than a week ago, and it hadn't been memorable. Well, it had, but not in a good way. Having been unable to decide on a weapon to specialise with, Instructor Trepe had suggested I try out a gunblade. It hadn't been too bad until one of the Grats had choked up a cloud of gas right into my face, and in my confusion I'd smacked the instructor across the head. Luckily it had been with the flat of the blade and there'd been no lasting damage, but I was now uncomfortably aware that there was probably a very embarrassing footnote next to my name in her student database.

"Into my office. Quickly please, we haven't long."

Instructor Trepe turned to walk ahead of me, and I was reminded of the _other_ side of the aforementioned dissonance. As a staff member she had the right to dress however she wished, and it often surprised people that she routinely chose to wear the same uniform as the students, with a few personal touches here and there. But while the tight business top and ambiguous-length skirt looked awkward on me, somehow on _her..._

I tried not to stare at her hips as I followed her into her office. The receptionist was short-sighted, one of the reasons he'd convinced Headmaster Cid to give him an administrative role and keep him away from the front lines, but he was very easily amused and the last thing I wanted was him catching me perving at a staff member.

I pulled the door closed behind me, pausing momentarily to lean on it while Instructor Trepe was still walking to her desk, in a vain effort to calm my nerves. I'd never been called into any office before, much less hers, and I still wasn't sure if I was about to be commended for something, or expelled.

As the instructor settled behind an imposing wooden desk stretching nearly the whole width of the room, I glanced around the office, vaguely wondering how many members of her fan club - The Trepies, we called ourselves - had seen inside before. I was surprised at how underwhelming it was. There was very little here to suggest a personal touch, which was to be expected given how much time the instructor spent out of her office, but surely at some point you need to do reports or file paperwork, and you'd want to do that in an office with some sort of personal decoration, wouldn't you? There was just the desk, two chairs, a console, a closet, a calendar on the wall beside her, and coiled up on the desk corner closest to me, her whip. No decorations, no posters or pictures or anything, as if she didn't have time for unnecessary things like that. Even the calendar, apart from the notes she'd written, was plain white.

Confused at the blandness of her office and how much it contrasted with the rest of the Garden, I pulled the chair out from her desk and was about to sit down when I heard her clear her throat. She was glaring at me - unreadable as always - and it took me a moment to remember that she hadn't told me to sit. Instructor Trepe did not like it when her students presumed things like that.

I swallowed and started to push the chair back underneath the desk.

"Yes, you may sit."

She was still looking at me, and while she sounded vaguely amused, her expression hadn't changed one bit. As I pulled the chair back out and sat, she slid the console keyboard over to her and started typing. These were some of the newer model consoles, with holographic displays that couldn't be seen from the angle I was sitting at, and while it was certainly an efficient way to keep one's privacy, it did nothing to ease my anxiety.

Instructor Trepe was all but ignoring me now, focused entirely on whatever it was she was writing. My terrified student brain filled my head with potential student evaluations, failing weaponry assessments, even a real-time record of how uncomfortable I was.

_Subject appears to be changing facial hue to bright shade of pink. Adorable when confused. Seems to display preliminary signs of sexual attraction to myself (personal note: why wouldn't they?). Recommendation: expel with force, laugh, throw things._

"Erm..." I stammered, fully aware that our personal interactions were few and far between and almost always started with me saying 'Erm'. "Is this about the incident with my T-board? From last m...

"No," she replied in a calm voice. "As reported to you at the time, T-boards are forbidden from use within school grounds and yours will be returned at the conclusion of the academic year. That matter is closed."

Instructor Trepe returned to her typing, and after another few seconds of silence, I tried agian. "The thing with the Grat, last week?"

"No," came the response. "Professionally we anticipate and expect small issues like that to arise within the Training Centre from time to time. And on a personal level, any annoyance I may have felt at the time was more than mitigated when I, acting within my rights as an instructor, hit you in the face with my whip to wake you up."

I'd forgotten about that.

I opened my mouth to list another of the embarrassing memories from my time here, when Instructor Trepe held up her hand, silencing me, still with her eyes glued to her console. "Suffice it to say that there are no unresolved disciplinary matters, if that is your concern. Do not presume you are here as a matter of punishment. Ah..." she finished with a final click of the console keyboard, turning to face me. "I have your records on my screen, and there are a few things I wish to discuss."

"Okay?" I responded, still very confused.

"Firstly," she began, looking between me and the screen. "Despite a growing proficiency in many of your classes, and a steady increase in your grades since the beginning of this year, I note you have not yet applied to take the SeeD exam. Our assessment is that you are ready to do so," she continued with a nod, "so I'm curious as to why you still delay."

"Erm," I stammered again. _Damn it._ "Mostly because I... can't seem to settle on a weapon of choice. It's still a requirement to specialise, isn't it?"

"It is," she confirmed with a slight smirk. "That does make sense. In particular, I would recommend a little more training, and practice, should you wish to pursue the gunblade."

"O-o-once was enough, thank you," I said as quickly as I could. I didn't need any more embarrassing memories to go with that one.

"As you wish. I personally had to attempt also every known combat discipline on offer at the Garden, before settling on the whip." She nodded towards the coiled whip on the corner of the desk, before continuing "A good choice, I feel. It suits me."

 _Oh hells yes it suits you,_ my brain unhelpfully supplied.

"Now, I'm sorry to say that there's been an issue with your next proposed visit to the Fire Cavern. Due to a schedule clash," she straightened her glasses as she peered back at the display, "we'll need to delay by at least a day. How would you say you're doing with your attuning to our Guardians?"

"I'm getting the hang of them," I replied, a little more confidently now that the conversation was moving away from embarrassing personal stories.

"Good to know," she concluded. "Hopefully there won't be any issues when the time comes for your exam. As always, try to use them whenever possible and there shouldn't be any issues. Now then..."

I started to settle back in the chair.

"...What can you tell me about the, hmm... it says here they're called 'Trepies'?"

 _Oh, no._ She was staring right at me. She already knew. We all knew she was aware of us, of course, we weren't exactly quiet about our adoration for the Garden's youngest instructor. Blue Mage, child prodigy, and a handful of other things besides. But she'd never personally acknowledged our existence.

"T-T-Trep... pies?" I gargled, gripping the sides of my chair."

"Yes," she said calmly, watching me with a clearly amused expression. "An unofficial student body named after myself, yes?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am," I said softly. There was nothing else I could say.

"Concerned with recognition of my deeds and abilities, past accomplishments, combat preferences, and..." she pushed another button with a click loud enough to resonate through the entire room, "...good looks, it says here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"An organisation which, despite being unofficial, has a recorded list of members?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And, most recently, that list includes you?"

 _Shit._ "Y-yes... ma'am."

"Interesting," she said, her expression still amused. "I would like to discuss this further, particularly in regards to the areas in which you, personally, hold an interest in me."

_I'm dead._

She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and looked directly at me, waiting for a reply. I couldn't bring myself to match her gaze.

"Well," I said slowly. "I was... particularly... interested in, uh, your... quick mastery of the... erm, the Blue... er, Magic. Given the need to, um, to learn it from..."

"Not that."

"...from the monster, er, population," I continued on autopilot, "you must have had to..."

"Tell me about my looks."

"...go... into. Battle. Er. A lot."

I petered off into silence, and gulped. Instructor Trepe's expression made it perfectly clear that I was not going to get out of this until I answered her.

"W-well," I began. "Instruc..."

"I think, given the circumstances," she said, brushing her gold-blonde hair from her face, "you should call me Quistis."

"Oh. Erm. Okay... Quis...tis," I said, rolling the unfamiliar syllables across my tongue. I never would have dared say them out loud before this. I cleared my throat and started speaking again, trying desperately to keep my heart-rate under control - and failing.

"I... admire the colour of your hair," I started. That was completely truthful, at least. "And the personal touches... you've added to your... uniform. The way you move in..."

"Are you attracted to me?" she interrupted in a steely, soft voice.

There was no point in lying. "Yes," I whispered.

"Sexually?"

 _Fuck._ "Well... yes."

Instructor Trepe stared across the table at me, unmoving, for what felt like an entire minute. When I dared to lift my gaze to hers, her expression was no longer amused.

"Interesting," she said, almost to herself. Slowly, carefully, she stood up, sliding her chair back under the desk.

"But that won't impact my studies," I amended hurriedly. "Or any other part of my life. I assure you, Inst..."

"Quistis," she said calmly, walking out from behind her desk. I watched, momentarily speechless, as she picked up her whip from the desk without a word.

"Q-Quistis. I mean, I'm sure that there won't be..." I stammered, turning to face her as she walked to the door.

"Keep your eyes forward," she barked. "Do not turn around, no matter what you hear. You can consider that an order."

As confused as I was, the student part of my brain kicked in. SeeD being a military facility, orders like that were to be obeyed without question, even in the absence of understanding. I did so, resting both my hands on the desk and facing her empty chair. "As I was saying, In... Quistis, my... attraction is inconsequential. I guarantee it won't..."

I heard a click. It sounded suspiciously like a door locking.

"Er... it won't. Won't. That is..."

Slow, gentle footsteps. She was standing right behind my chair. "Don't turn around," I heard her say again, softly but still authoritative. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Quistis," I whispered.

"Good answer. Now," I heard her say quietly, "tell me the truth, about your attraction to me."

I breathed deeply. Up until a minute ago, I'd have assumed that doing so would get my arse kicked to the curb. But... she did ask...

"I find you... very, very sexy," I admitted, still not above a whisper. "All of you."

I held my breath, waiting for an admonishment, but nothing happened. I clenched my fists, holding tighter to the arms of the chair, fighting the urge to turn and see what she was doing; how she'd taken my admission. Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, in the same unreadable tone of voice, she replied, "Go on."

"I have... been attracted to you, almost since the first class I attended," I continued. "I admire your confidence, and your posture. You carry yourself with... with authority, and I... am attracted to that."

Something flew past my head and landed on the desk. It was a tight grey school shirt. I recognised the artistic flourishes and designs that Ins... that Quistis had added. _Oh fuck, what the hell is happening?_

A step closer to the chair. "Tell me about my body."

"Er... well, your face," I stuttered, still not looking behind. "Your smile, I find beautiful. I think your..."

"My body," she repeated sharply. "Not my face."

"Uh, I don't... understand," I whispered. Also true. There was no way she could mean...

"Tell me about my breasts."

...that.

Another flutter of movement. I watched, hypnotised, as a thin lacy black bra landed on top of the shirt.

"My breasts," she repeated.

Oh gods. She was half naked, behind me. The woman I'd fantasised about more or less constantly, the sexiest instructor I could even imagine, was standing within arm's reach. All I had to do was turn around, or reach behind me, or...

No, I realised with certainty. This was a game, and if I broke the rules, it would be over. Time to play along.

"Your breasts are perfect. I look... at them, whenever I have the chance, and... I imagine. What they would..."

"Arms by your side, please." A gloved hand reached past me, carefully resting a pair of glasses on the desk.

"What they would look like, without clothes. I mean," I corrected myself, taking my arms from the chair and bringing them to my sides, "I mean, if you were without... clothes." I finished, lamely.

"You mean," she said in a silky smooth voice, "as I am now?"

A skirt landed on the desk, beside the growing pile of clothes. I hadn't even heard her remove it.

"As... you are now," I continued in a somewhat strained voice. "I'm... finding it hard... to keep my eyes forward," I admitted.

"Allow me to motivate you to do so, then," I heard her say calmly. "Should you look back, our session is over and you will be dismissed. I can promise, in that circumstance, that you will never again return to my office. But, should you maintain your forward gaze, then..."

I heard a sound like leather being strained. Quistis's hands appeared on either side of my vision, holding her whip tightly between them.

"...well, I'm sure that we can come up with a suitable reward for your effort." I closed my eyes, not daring to move my head as I felt her wrap her whip three times around my arms and torso, securing me to the chair. "That should do it," she whispered into my ear as she pulled the whip tight. I twisted my arms a little, testing how much movement she'd left me, but to no avail. Effortlessly, barely making a sound, she'd tied me securely in place.

"You're struggling," she pointed out as I moved my arms. "If you wish this session to end, you need only say so. Or," she continued as she moved her lips to my other ear, "you could tell me about the rest of my body."

"Oh fuck," I said, eyes still closed, not realising for a moment that I'd spoken out loud. "No, please, don't end." Still trying to wrap my mind around the situation, I listened as my voice, without any input from my brain, said "I'll tell you about your body."

"I was hoping you'd say that," she purred. "Tell me what you want, what you'd like to do, and don't forget what you'd like me to do with you." And as I opened my eyes, I saw her hands, in those sexy black leather gloves, reaching from behind my back, down to the base of my skirt.

"I want to see you," I started. "I want to look at every bit of your glorious, beautiful body, Quistis."

"You will," she promised as her hand slipped up, pushing my skirt back as she trailed her fingers across my thigh. "Soon."

"I want to touch you," I continued, faster now. "Just like you're touching me. I want to feel your skin under my fingers, to slide them across your breasts, across your thighs, all the way up to your puss..."

She cleared her throat, and I felt her hand freeze.

"...vagina," I corrected myself.

"Very good," she whispered. "Now, please continue. Tell me what else you'd like." And before I could say another word, I felt her fingers slide under my skirt, all the way between my legs.

And she started playing with me. And _holy fuck_ it felt amazing.

I struggled for breath as her fingers slid over my body. I could hear my juices sliding over her gloved hand, could feel every bit of her touch on my sensitive body. Fuck, she was good at this. She knew exactly where to touch, even without looking, even with her fingers in her glove. I moaned in pleasure, genuinely afraid that Quistis was going to make me cum far faster than I ever had before.

"Well? I'm waiting," she reminded me, not even slowing down.

"Oh f... oh god..." I breathed, trying to keep myself from giving up and just melting back into the chair. "You... you feel amazing. I w... I want you to keep..."

Quistis moved her hand even faster, pressing and pulling and rubbing every bit of me she could reach, breathing warmly beside my ear. But as good as she felt, I realised there was something else I wanted even more. I was a Trepie, after all.

"I want..." I began, breathing as deeply as I could and speaking with absolute certainty, "...to make you feel as good as you're making me feel, right now."

"Oh?" she said, still behind me. "So, you'd rather service me?"

Her hand started to slow down, but I didn't care. Even the possibility was making me feel more anticipatory, more excited. I wanted the chance to make her cum, even more than I wanted her to make me. And as she came to a stop and withdrew her hand from my skirt, I nodded. "I would."

"Well," she said matter-of-factly as she stood up behind me. "I was going to save that for another time, to be honest. But, if you insist..."

And, with that, she wrapped her hands around my shoulders and pulled me backwards, gently tipping the chair onto its back and leaving me face-up on the floor.

With two steps, she was towering over me. Her sexy black boots were standing on either side of my chest, giving me an unobstructed view of her whole body. Her thighs, even sexier than I'd imagined - how was that even possible? - towered up from the boots, ending in a thin pair of black panties. And above them... well, her body, and her breasts. There was no way, no way I could describe how intense, how incredible, she looked. And I was seeing her here, all at once - and I was far too distracted by her beauty to notice, until much later on, that I was no longer even slightly nervous.

"You can look now," she assured me, smiling at my clearly rapt expression.

"Good to know," I managed to reply.

"Now," she continued as she knelt down on top of my body. "Are you comfortable?"

I nodded. It was a very nice chair, and even tied to it and lying on top of it, I would not have rather been anywhere else.

"Well then. I have only one more directive for you, and if you can follow it, then we'll both leave this room satisfied. Are you ready?"

I smiled and nodded again, knowing exactly what she was going to say as I watched her lower her hands to her panties.

"Hold out your tongue."

And as I opened my mouth to obey, I watched my idol pull her panties down to her knees, exposing her pussy. Without a moment's hesitation she knelt down over my face and pressed her body against me, and I eagerly tilted my head back and slid my tongue into her.

Oh god, she tasted good. As my tongue slid between her thighs and straight up her pussy, I moaned from the sheer pleasure of being allowed to give head to my idol. There was nothing else I wanted, nothing else I could have asked for. I only wanted the chance to make her feel as good as I could, and judging from the noises she was making, I was well on the way.

Quistis rocked back and forward over my head, grinding her pussy against my face as I fucked her with my tongue. Slowly, I felt her juices trickle down against my mouth, then my cheeks, and over my chin. I moved my head back and forward under her body, partly to give her the sensation of my tongue moving inside her and partly to cover as much of my face as I could. 

As I pushed my tongue deeper and held it in place against her, I heard her start moaning as her hips rocked up and down against my body. Fuck, it was intense. In all the fantasies I'd had about this woman - and there'd been many, many fantasies - Quistis had played the part of the stoic, strict instructor. But here, right in front of me, I could see her losing control, and it was hotter than anything I'd ever imagined. Quistis pushed her body hard into my face, eager to take as much of my tongue as she could, and as she rocked hard against me, I realised she was enjoying this at least as much as I was.

Then, without warning, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me up, pressing my face between her legs and pushing my tongue even deeper inside her. I twisted to the side, taking as deep a breath as I could before she pulled me back onto her, slamming her pussy against my face. Her moans grew steadily louder, until she started shouting my name, and as I twisted and struggled for another breath, I heard her scream louder than I'd ever heard before as she orgasmed straight onto my face.

Tilting my head back from her body to breathe a little easier, I slowly started to slide my tongue out of her, even as she thrashed and moaned around me, mid-orgasm. I slid my tongue around the inside of her vagina, carefully gathering as much juice as I could, savouring every drop. Quistis moaned as she slid her body against my face, leaning forward to rest her hands on the ground, panting and gasping for breath as I continued slowly licking and sucking every bit of her that I could reach, until finally I lay back on the chair, exhausted, as she slowly got to her feet and replaced her panties.

"Well done," she informed me, her voice still a bit shaky. "We'll make a SeeD of you yet." She carefully loosened the knot she'd tied behind the chair and slipped her whip off my body, letting me roll away from the chair and get to my feet.

"Thank you," I said, massaging my tongue inside my mouth. "Coming from you, that means a lot."

"Well," she continued as she picked the chair back up and slid it back under the desk. "I think that's everything we needed to... talk about, today. If you hurry, you can still catch the end of lunch. If I were you, though, I'd be out of this area by the time the other staff members return."

"Er... right. Understood," I confirmed, as Qui... as Instructor Trepe slipped back into her chair behind her desk, reaching across and taking her clothes.

I turned and walked towards the exit, but as I reached out to unlock the door, I heard her say "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" I asked, turning to face her. She'd already replaced her bra, and was in the process of slipping back into her skirt.

"Just before you go, can you please confirm - how many members of this little fan group are there? The 'Trepies'?"

"Mmm..." I thought for a moment. It hadn't been that long since I'd added my name to the roster. Remembering the numbered list of names, I answered, "Twenty-eight, I think."

"Good," she answered, buttoning up her shirt. "That's what I thought." And she gestured towards the calendar beside the door.

I laughed as I followed her gesture to see the calendar. It was showing the current month of February, and every single day of the twenty-eight day month had a different name written on it. Names I recognised. I was completely unsurprised to see my own name on the first day.

"You're dismissed," Instructor Trepe called out from behind her desk.

**Author's Note:**

> [Accompanying Artwork](https://foxglove.paheal.net/_images/bebe1c7cfb8729d927cee31557906982/1427037%20-%20E-ros%20Final_Fantasy_VIII%20Quistis_Trepe.jpg)


End file.
